


Yeehaw

by Ims0s0rry



Category: Jane the Virgin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-10-11 15:43:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20548631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ims0s0rry/pseuds/Ims0s0rry
Summary: Clara shows up in town with nothing but a tattered dress and a gun. She's in desperate need of help (not that she'll admit it) and that's before she gets bitten by a snake. Luckily, this town just happens to have their own (kinda sorta) doctor who specializes in snakebites. Enter Rattlesnake Lu.For Roisa Week 2019 Day 5: Period AU





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what this is I'm so sorry.

Clara makes quite a stir when she staggers into town with her wild eyes and what’s left of a ripped, frilly dress. She stands at the end of Main Street, breathing hard, as the townsfolk poke their heads out of the buildings. They take in her cracked lips, her disheveled hair, her dusty, sunburned skin, and know, instinctively, that this is a woman that’s been on the road for some time.

Rafael is the first man to swagger out of the saloon to greet her, tipping his ten gallon. “How’re you doin, little lady? My name’s—”

But he stops short when she jolts to attention and pulls a revolver out of her ruined dress.

“Hold on, miss.” He holds his hands up in a defensive gesture. “I don’t mean you no harm.”

“Get away from me,” she rasps, scuttling back. “I don’t want anything to do with you or any other man ever again.”

“Beggin’ your pardon, miss, but you do look in a bad way. If I could get you a drink of water?”

Her dry tongue swipes at her lips briefly but she shakes her head. “I’m just passing through.”

“Where?” he asks, taking a few cautious steps forward. “Maybe I could give you directions?”

She cocks the revolver as she retreats. It’s clear she knows how to use it. “None of your damn business. Now get out of the way.”

The polite concern on his face morphs into alarm as she continues to walk backwards.

“Miss, look out!”

But it’s too late. She doesn’t hear the ominous rattling over the blood pounding in her ears until the snake sinks its fangs into her exposed calf.

For a few heartstopping seconds, she doesn’t feel anything but her breakneck heartbeat pulsing in her veins. There’s no pain. But then she sways, her vision blurs and then dims, and the last thing she sees is Rafael sprinting toward her, screaming, “Lu! Go get Lu!” as she collapses.

…

She wakes up, drenched in sweat, in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room. She tries to bolt upright, but an arm snakes out, holding her down. Instinctively, she struggles, but it’s only a few moments before she wears herself out.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the owner of the arm says. A female voice. “The antivenom needs time to work its way through your system.”

It isn’t until Clara goes limp that she realizes that there’s a needle sticking out of her arm. It links up to a bag of clear liquid that’s dripping steadily. She moves to yank it out but the arm stops her again. She turns back to glare at her and comes face to face with what looks like you’re average ranch hand: sweaty, dusty, and in a full cowgirl getup.

“Who the hell are you?” Clara asks, and realizes that she’s not rasping. She’s been rehydrating.

“I’m Luisa,” she says, wiping her sweaty brow with a sleeve. “But the rest of the town calls me Rattlesnake Lu since I’m the only one who has any antivenom on hand if anyone’s bitten. You’re lucky they got you to me so quickly.”

“Well, thank you,” Clara manages to say with some effort. She’s not in the habit of thanking people. “But I’m quite fine without your help. I’ll be on my way now.”

She moves to get up again, but it’s ridiculously easy for Luisa to push her down again. “Hold on there, lady. I just saved your life. The least you can do is let me finish the job properly.”

Clara grumbles, trying to muster enough energy to try again.

“Why are you in such a hurry anyhow?”

She bristles. “That’s none of your business.” She suddenly realizes she’s in her underthings and yanks the blanket up to cover herself, even though it sticks to something slimy on her skin. Aloe. For her sunburn. “Where’s my stuff?”

Luisa raises an eyebrow. “You mean your gun?”

She holds it up with a forefinger and thumb like it’s something dirty. Clara grabs it. She’s surprised that Luisa doesn’t stop her until she opens the  barrel and realizes it’s been unloaded.

“Where are my bullets?”

“Here.” Luisa digs around in her pocket and pulls out a handful of them.

“I don’t suppose you’ll give me them back, will you?”

“You suppose correct. At least not until your treatment is done and I give you a onceover just to make sure that the venom’s gone.”

“Look, if there’s someone in charge I can talk to, I’m sure they’d be able to discharge me a lot—”

Luisa laughs, cutting her off. “Lady, I’m the only one here. Do you think you’re in an actual hospital? This shack is the closest thing to a hospital we have around here.”

“Are you the local doctor?”

Luisa’s smile turns strained. “Something like that.”

Clara sighs belligerently. “Well? How long until this is done?”

“A few days, at least.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What’s your name?”

The sudden change in topic catches her by surprise. “Rose,” she answers, thinking quickly. “My name is Rose.”

“Well listen here, Rose. You were bitten by a Mojave rattler. Do you know what that is?”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m assuming it’s a rattlesnake.”

“Not just any rattlesnake. One of the most poisonous pit vipers this side of the Mississippi. Not to mention you were severely dehydrated and sunburned. So yeah, you’ll be sticking around here until I deem you fit for travel. Then you can go wherever you want. You’re lucky I’m not amputating your leg.”

Clara (Rose now, she reminds herself. She’ll have to think of herself as Rose if she isn’t going to slip up) instinctively lifts the blanket to look as she wiggles her toes. There’s a bandage around the site of the bite, but nothing else. She raises her eyebrows. “And you’re sure that nothing but this particular...solution will dissolve all of the venom?”

Luisa scowls. “I’ll have you know that I have a 93% success rate. Old Jimmy’s the only one in my care that’s ever died from a snakebite and that’s because the ass decided to tough it out a couple of days before coming to see me. By then it was too late. I know what I’m doing.”

Rose sighs. “Okay well what am I supposed to be doing in the meantime? Do you expect me just to lay here for the next few days?”

“Most people would sleep, yeah, but if you’re really itching for something to do, there’s books on the shelf next to you.” She moves to get up.

“Where are you going? What if I start foaming at the mouth while you’re gone? I’d hate to see your success rate take a significant drop because you weren’t paying attention to an invalid.”

Luisa dons her hat and pulls her bandana up to cover her nose. “It’s just me all by myself on this here land so I’ve got work to keep up on but don’t you worry. At the first sign of any foaming or other emergencies, you ring that bell there and I’ll come by and save you. There’s water in this pitcher here. Bathroom’s first door on the right down the hall. Just take the whole needle contraption with you. It has wheels.”

Rose stares at the bell on the bedside table dubiously. “How many acres do you have here? Are you sure you’ll be able to hear that little bell?”

“I won’t be far. Besides, if I don’t hear it, Prosciutto will and she’ll come fetch me.”

“Prosciutto?”

“Yes ma’am. Best guard pig I’ve ever had. Come here, girl!”

A black pig with white ear markings nudges open the door and trots in.

“Shoots, this is Rose. She was bitten by a rattler and will be staying with us for a few days. If you hear her ring the bell and I’m not on my way back in five minutes, can you come get me?”

The pig grunts and flaps her ears.

“Good girl.”

Rose looks even more hesitant about the pig than she does about the bell. “You’re sure about this? I don’t know if I trust a pig to understand what you’re saying, let alone run off to get you if the need arises.”

Luisa gasps and bends down to throw her arms around Prosciutto. “Don’t listen to her, girl! You know how the city folk are. They don’t understand how brave and smart you are.” Prosciutto snorts in her arms and gives Rose a baleful glare. “Don’t offend her, Rose. She knows how to be petty. You push her too far and she might conveniently not hear the bell.”

The pig snuffles.

“Prosciutto says she wants an apology.”

“Are you serious?”

“Apologize to her, Rose. She’s an important member of this establishment and I will not have her being disrespected.”

“Or what? You’ll kick me out?”

“Be good and I’ll give you back your bullets when you leave. Or else I’ll just melt them down.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would. This is a strict no gun policy here. The only reason why I didn’t take yours away is because it was the only thing you had. Besides that ratty dress. God only knows how you managed to make it this far. But that’s not the point. Prosciutto is still waiting for her apology.”

Both Luisa and her pig have matching pigheaded expressions. Rose sighs. “Fine. I’m sorry I doubted your intelligence, Prosciutto. There. Are you happy?”

Luisa nods but the pig yanks Rose’s blanket away and makes a nest next to her bed. “She knows you’re being sarcastic but she’s willing to let it slide this time.”

Rose curls up like a shrimp. “This is her being forgiving?”

“Oh yeah,” she says as she pulls another blanket out from the cabinet, fluffing it before she gives it to Rose. “Once Stuart the Trapper insulted her and she bit him. He still has the marks on his forearm.”

Rose scoots away from the edge of the bed.

“Right, well, if that’ll be all?”

“I guess so,” Rose says.

Prosciutto hums as Luisa leaves.

The sun is starting to set when Rose wakes to the sound of someone banging around in the room next door. She peeks over the side of the bed, but Prosciutto has left her blanket nest.

Is it Luisa?

She feels horribly exposed laying her in her underwear, especially without her gun. As footsteps near, she grabs the glass next to the pitcher and raises it, ready to throw. She almost does when Luisa pushes open the door, Prosciutto at her heels.

“Easy there, tiger. It’s just me.”

Rose lowers the glass.

“Are you feeling better?”

She nods. “Less dizzy.”

“Always a good sign.” Luisa lays a tray across her lap. “I hope you like scrambled eggs and mashed potatoes because it’s all we’ve got. There’s some candied yams for dessert. I don’t make enough to go into town for supplies until tomorrow.”

Rose stares down at the food. It’s been at least a week since she’s had a cooked meal. Her mouth is watering but she forces herself to look up at Luisa. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She expects Luisa to leave after she drops off the plate but to her surprise, she puts a tray down on the floor for Prosciutto before she pulls up a chair. She collapses into it and puts her feet up on the bedside table, pulling a tray of her own onto her lap.

“So how was your day?” she asks, rocking back on the chair’s hind legs. Prosciutto grunts as she eats her eggs.

Rose shrugs. “I was stuck in bed all day. Read all your books. I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Luisa whistles. “Already? You sure don’t look like a bookworm.”

“It’s not hard when it’s all pulpy cowboy westerns. Do you have anything else?”

“‘Fraid not. That’s the only type of books that we get out here. I reckon I’ve got the biggest library out of anyone here in town, actually.”

“That’s disappointing.”

They lapse into silence. Rose picks at her food, determined not to give in and lick the plate like she wants to.

“So,” Rose says, clearing her throat, “how was your day?”

“Fine. Got the chores out of the way: fed the animals, brushed down the horse, milked the goats and the snakes, separately though. Just the usual.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Hmmm?”

“You milk snakes?”

“Well, yeah, why do you think they call me Rattlesnake Lu? I’m the only one that makes antivenom in town, and I’ve gotta have snakes to milk the venom from before I can make antivenom.”

“So you farm snakes?”

“Just a few. The ones that are most likely to bite people. And look! If you mix it with the right compounds, you can mail nail polish out of it.” She wiggles her painted nails. They glint menacingly in the flickering lamplight. She must notice how nervous Rose looks because she adds, “You can paint your nails too if you’re looking for something to do. It won’t hurt you unless it comes in contact with an open wound.”

Rose frowns. “Why would you paint your nails with rattlesnake venom in the first place?”

“Look at that sheen! You just can’t get a shine like that with regular nail polish, not that we get a lot of that out here either. Not to mention, the ornery ones get real quiet real fast when I tell them I could scratch them and poison them all over again if they don’t cooperate. They’re not so tough without their guns.”

“Why do you take people’s guns anyway?”

“I figure if you’re here getting treatment for a bite, you don’t need your gun. Besides, it ruins the atmosphere I’m going for.  _ How _ am I supposed to focus on making people better if I have to worry about people’s guns going off randomly?”

“Don’t they keep the safety on?”

Luisa points to a point on the wall behind Rose. There’s a very obvious bullet hole in the wood.

“I  _ always _ keep the safety on,” Rose says, petulant.

Luisa laughs. “If that’s you trying to get your gun back, nice try but no dice.” She leans over to rest the back of a hand against Rose’s forehead. “Your fever’s almost gone, your skin’s not quite so clammy, and the color’s coming back into your cheeks.” She wets a washcloth in the basin in the corner and wipes Rose’s cheeks and neck before she lays it on her forehead. “You’ll be on your feet in no time.”

Luisa stacks their empty plates in one hand and checks the IV bag one more time. “Anything else you needed from me?”

“No,” Rose says softly.

“Good night.” Luisa blows out the lamp.

“Good night,” she echoes.

The next day Rose puts up enough of a fuss that Luisa lets her follow her around.

(“But I’m bored!” she’d said, flailing around in bed.

“Don’t do that! You’ll dislodge the needle!” Luisa pinned her arm down.

“What am I supposed to do? I already read all your books.”

Luisa frowned and felt her forehead again. “Your fever’s gone now so I suppose you can get up and move around.”

A few hours later, Prosciutto had gone to fetch Luisa after Rose had upended everything in the house.

“What is it now?” Luisa snapped, yanking her bandana down. She found Rose sitting in a pile of her things. “Why are you going through my things?”

Rose flopped over, careful to keep the arm with the IV up in the air so it wouldn’t be jostled. “I’m bored,” she moaned. “I’ve scoured every inch of this place looking for something to do.”

To be fair, that wasn’t hard to do. It was a tiny little cabin in the middle of nowhere. There was a kitchen, a bathroom, a bedroom, and a den, which was where Luisa had been sleeping. And now all of her belongings were strewn around the floor.

“Hey, who’s this?” Rose had face planted right next to a dusty photo that had fallen out of one of Luisa’s things.

Luisa crouched to get a better look and her face, usually so expressive, blanked. “That’s my dad and brother.”

“Oh.” Rose tilted it to get a better look. “Where are they? Did they go somewhere and leave you behind to take care of the farm?”

“No. They’re dead,” she said shortly.

Rose has seen that defensive look mirrored enough times on her own face to know when there’s more to a story. But before she could pry more, Luisa pulled her to her feet.

“Fine. You can come with me out on the farm as long as you’re careful. God knows I don’t need you making more of a mess in here.” She stalked to the closet and pulled out jeans, flannel, and a hat. “Here. The last thing you need is to get even more sunburned.”)

So here they are, making their way across Luisa’s little homestead. They make an unlikely trio, Luisa up front, Prosciutto next to her, and Rose with her IV bag attached to the brim of her cowboy hat (there’s no way the stand would be able to keep up with all the rocks and the scrubby grass) bringing up the rear.

Rose turns her head this way and that, making the bag bounce against her head, as she takes everything in.

“Never been out this far west, huh? Where are you from, anyway?” Luisa asks as she leads them to the stable.

Rose freezes. “New York,” she finally says.

Luisa whistles. “You’re a long way from home.”

She wants to say something like “I don’t have a home anymore,” but that’s opening a whole can of worms she can’t talk about right now, not to mention it’s a little overdramatic. Instead, she asks, “What about you? Were you born out here?”

“Nope,” Luisa grunts as she starts to muck out the stable. Rose realizes why she wears a bandana now. The odor is so strong, her eyes are watering. And that’s standing at the entrance instead of in the thick of things like Luisa is. “I was born in Houston.”

“What made you move out here then?”

“The gold rush. I didn’t have anything left back east for me, so I moved out here and tried my luck mining. Didn’t find any gold but I’ve made myself comfortable here. It’s not easy, but it’s home.”

She works in silence for a few minutes before she loads up the wheelbarrow. She starts to push it toward the vegetable garden, Rose following close behind. “And you? How does a proper lady like you find herself in the middle of the desert with nothing but a gun?”

Rose chooses her words very carefully. “There was a fire that destroyed everything. I only got out with my clothes and a gun. I didn’t have any family or money, so you know society would’ve rather let me starve on the streets than work. I planned to go out to California and see if there was any work out there but I ran out of money for fare in St. Louis. And then I trainhopped until Tucson where they caught me. From there, I walked.”

“Until you were bitten by a rattlesnake,” Luisa says, dumping it in the vegetable garden. She turns back toward the stable.

“Until I was bitten by a rattlesnake.”

“Well, I have good news for you.” Luisa leans on her shovel and grins at Rose before she pulls her bandana up around her nose again. “You made it. You’re in California.”

“I am?”

“Yup. Crossed into California about thirty miles ago that way.”

“Oh.” Rose looks around at the desert. “This wasn’t what I was expecting.”

Luisa laughs. “It never is.”

Once all the animals have been fed and watered and the new bedding has been put down, Luisa says she’s going into town for supplies.

“How are you feeling? I’d stay here if I were you.”

“No, I’ll come with.”

So that’s how she finds herself sitting behind Luisa in the saddle as her gentle horse, Geraldine, pulls a little wagon into town. Luisa makes a living by selling her goat milk, eggs, and wool.

“It’s not much, but it’s enough to get me by,” she says cheerfully as sets up outside the saloon.

The last of the eggs is sold off a few hours later.

“How do you know you won’t have too much of the eggs or the milk and then they’ll go bad?”

“I don’t, not for sure,” Luisa says with a shrug as she packs up. She swings herself up onto Geraldine and holds her hand out to help Rose up as well. “But the population here is pretty steady. I know all the locals. We only get people coming through every once in a while.” She winks, the wind whipping stray hairs out of her ponytail. “Guess you’re special.”

_ Oh no _ , Rose thinks as her heart gives a traitorous lurch. Once Rose is in the saddle, Luisa’s wrists rest on Rose’s thighs, the reins held loosely in her hands.  _ Oh no oh no oh no. _

Geraldine, utterly oblivious to Rose’s newfound inner turmoil, plods home.

Luisa deems Rose in good enough health to eat dinner at the kitchen table even all she wants to do is fall facedown in bed and moan for a good half hour straight.

It’s a quiet affair.

After a few minutes of silence, except for the chirping of crickets and Prosciutto’s dainty bites of her food on the floor, Luisa asks, “Are you okay? You look a little pale, although that might be the sunburn peeling away.”

Rose doesn’t smile. “I’m not feeling very well.”

Luisa’s kneeling by her side in a flash. Her hand goes to Rose’s forehead. “You’re not burning up again. What’s wrong? Are you feeling nauseous? Dizzy? Thirsty? How many fingers am I holding up?”

This close, Rose could count every eyelash framing those hazel eyes (god, her eyes are hazel, like some goddamn  _ forest pools _ or some cliché shit like that what is wrong with her?), but instead of leaning in to see exactly how many eyelashes Luisa has like she wants to, she flings herself out of the chair, away from Luisa. “Four. I can see fine. I’m fine. I’m just tired. I’m fine. Good night.”

She can see Luisa starting to frown as she retreats to her room. So Rose is entirely unsurprised when there’s a timid knock on the door ten minutes later.

“Rose?”

“Come in,” she mumbles. Luisa must be really worried if she’s started knocking in her own home when she didn’t feel the need to before.

“Can I light the lamp?”

She sighs, lost in the maudlin throes of infatuation. “I guess.”

Her eyes follow the spark as Luisa lights a match and ignites the lamp. The soft phosphorous scent of the match lingers as Luisa bends over her. “I’m going to check your heart rate, okay?”

She nods but she can’t help a slight shiver as Luisa brushes away the hair from her neck and gently presses two fingers to her pulse.

“I’m worried about your blood pressure,” she says finally, frowning. “Your heart rate is pretty quick too. Maybe the effects of the venom are more gradual than I originally thought,” Luisa muses. ”Do you feel confused or weak?”

Yes, but probably not for the reasons that Luisa thinks so. Mostly she just wants to be left alone. “No,” she says.

“Any sweating, anxiety, thirst?”

Does realizing you have a crush on someone you’re not supposed to always mimic the signs of delayed toxins?

“I’m fine,” Rose says.

Luisa hums doubtfully. She starts to tuck the blanket in around Rose. “Make sure you stay warm. It can get chilly out here at night.”

Rose catches her hand before she can finish. She can feel the calluses on Luisa’s fingers. Suddenly this lonely ache in her chest is too sharp to bear. “Please…” she whispers. She doesn’t know what she wants.

Luisa stares at her and tilts her head in question. “Do you need me to get something for you?”

“Please.” She licks her dry lips. “When can I leave?”

Luisa’s face falls a little. “Pain in my ass as you’ve been, I can’t deny that it’s been nice to have some company, right, Prosciutto?”

The pig sticks her wet snout right against Rose’s cheek.

“She likes you,” Luisa says. “Might be because you gave her your leftovers at dinner. We’ll be sorry to see you go. You should stay another day, just to make sure that this doesn’t turn into anything more serious, but you’re free to go the day after that. I have no reason to keep you after that.”

Rose’s throat closes up but she manages to choke out, “Thank you.”

Luisa gazes at her for a beat too long before she says, “Sweet dreams,” and blows out the light.

Rose is silent as she listens to Luisa’s footsteps withdraw toward the den.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay. I'm going through a bit of a rough patch

Rose wakes up grumpy and restless from a poor night’s sleep. Luisa smiles when she stumbles into the kitchen.

“Morning. Coffee?” she asks.

Rose grunts affirmatively.

Luisa whistles tunelessly while she pours her a cup, stepping around Prosciutto, who’s rooting at the rug. She lays out the milk and sugar and slides into the spot across from Rose.

“What?” Rose asks, waspish, after she takes a sip of her straight black coffee and finds Luisa staring at her.

“You’re pouty today. It’s cute.”

“I don’t pout.”

“Hmm,” Luisa says, getting up from the table to place her empty mug in the sink. “But you do admit you’re cute.”

Rose is so startled by this (is this flirting? Is Luisa flirting with her???) that she sits at the table with her coffee trying to puzzle it out for the next twenty minutes while Luisa goes ahead and starts her chores for the day.

It isn’t until she hears Luisa’s profuse swearing that she runs outside. Prosciutto is running in circles around the goats, who are grazing lazily at the edge of the property.

“What’s going on?”

“The goats have broken out,” Luisa says grimly. “Prosciutto’s trying her best to get them back, but she’s a guard pig not a herding pig. They’re not scared of her.”

Rose blinks. “I didn’t realize pigs could herd.”

“You’ve never heard of Babe the Sheep-pig?”

“The what now?”

“Never mind. Rooibos, get away from the garden! Are you feeling up to rustling up some wayward goats?”

“I guess,” Rose says.

She takes off, running at the goats, waving her arms wildly. The goats scoot out of her and Prosciutto’s way before going back to ripping up weeds in contentment.

She stops when she hears Luisa laughing at her. “What’s so funny?” she snaps, hands on her hips. “I could faint from overexertion at any second, you know.”

Luisa picks up ropes from the porch and tosses them over her shoulder before she makes her way over to Rose. “I had something in mind that doesn’t require so much effort on your part.”

“What do you mean?”

Luisa hands her one of the ropes and then swings the other one over her head for a few spins and then casually snares one of the goats and pulls it back through the opening in the fence.

Rose’s first thought is that was the sexiest thing she’s ever seen in her life, followed quickly by NO, STOP IT. She swallows hard and says, “Why do you need me to do it when you’re obviously capable of lassoing these goats by yourself?”

“They’re skittish around strangers. So I need you to rope them and pull them in while I make sure they don’t escape through the hole in the fence again.”

“Sounds reasonable. There’s one problem though. I can’t do that. Watch.” She tries to mimic Luisa but ends up tangling her lasso even before she throws it.

“Which is why I’m gonna give you a crash course right now.”

So while Prosciutto is still trying unsuccessfully to herd goats, and the goats themselves are busy grazing dangerously near to the cliff’s edge, Luisa teaches Rose how to properly lasso a goat.

It’s the most romantic thing Rose has ever experienced.

At first, Luisa tries to show her how to swing the rope the right way by example but Rose keeps getting distracted by her arms. She’d run out of the house without her customary flannel and she’s just in her hat and her tank top and her jeans and Rose is starting to sweat even though it’s still early in the morning.

After it’s clear that Rose is having trouble, Luisa drops her own rope and comes up behind her. “Like this,” she says softly against her neck, one of hers holding the lasso and the other guiding the hand swinging. “And let go.”

It lands a few feet to the left of its target.

“That’s better. Again.”

“So bossy,” Rose mutters, mostly to distract herself from the feeling of Luisa pressed against her.

“Hon, I haven’t even gotten into everything that’s wrong with your stance. Loosen up a little. Your posture’s so hunched you look like you’re gonna fall over.”

Rose grunts. It’s not like she can tell her to give her some space so she can concentrate, especially when she’s still having such a hard time. At least that’s what she tells herself.

It only takes four or five more tries before she can lasso a goat with moderate accuracy.

“That’ll have to do for now. They’re seconds away from breaking into the garden and eating all the rosemary.”

It takes most of the morning, but with Prosciutto’s help, they manage to get all the goats back inside. Then Luisa spends an hour or two nailing new planks of wood over the hole in the fence, with Rose helpfully observing the way sweat winds its way down the back of Luisa’s neck.

“I’m very thirsty,” Rose says suddenly. “Are you thirsty? I’ll go get some water.”

She grabs Luisa’s waterskin and practically sprints to the pump and fills up a bucket. She doesn’t even bother getting a glass for herself. She just guzzles from the bucket itself, spilling more than half of it down the front of her shirt.

Luisa wipes the back of her hand across her forehead and raises her eyebrows when Rose comes back, sopping wet but with her full waterskin. “Needed to cool off?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.”

Luisa shades her eyes and squints at horizon. “I’d say it’s about noon. Let me just finish up here and we’ll break for lunch.”

They’re just about done with lunch when there’s a knock on the door. Luisa looks just as surprised as Rose feels when it turns out to be Rafael on the doorstep with a handful of wildflowers.

“Oh hello, Raf. What brings you over to my neck of the woods?”

He fidgets. “Can I come in?”

“Of course. Rose and I were just finishing up lunch. Have you eaten yet?”

“Not yet, but I don’t think I could eat even if I wanted to.” He takes off his hat and nods to Rose. “Rose, was it? I’m mighty glad to see that Lu got you all patched up.”

“Yes,” Rose says slowly. She eyes the wildflowers and Rafael’s shifty behavior and suddenly feels a bit sick. “Excuse me,” she says, rising suddenly. “I’ll leave you two to your conversation. I need to take a shower.”

Luisa frowns. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Stop asking me that. I’m fine!” she snaps as she stalks outside.

The last thing she hears before she slams the door behind her is Rafael saying, “I thought getting bitten by a rattler would sedate her a bit but she’s still a firecracker, isn’t she?”

_ Stupid Rafael and his stupid face and his stupid flowers, _ Rose thinks as she roughly scrubs herself with the lye soap. She shivers in the confines of the outdoor shower and doesn't think about why she feels like crying. It’s obvious that Luisa with her capable, calloused, rattlesnake-venom nail-painted hands who’s the closest thing to a doctor in this town would have suitors. And what can Rose, who has nothing left but her unloaded gun, offer her in the end that Rafael, who probably has some sort of business and therefore an income and knows the best places to pick flowers, can’t?

She pulls the chain that controls the flow of water and douses herself in freezing water. She needs to leave. She can’t stand to stay here for another day.

When she’s dressed, she finds Luisa whistling tunelessly as she washes dishes while Prosciutto noses under the table for missed scraps.

“Where’s Rafael?”

“He left ages ago. He just wanted to talk.”

“Oh.” Rose looks around but doesn’t see a vase of any kind. “Where are the flowers?”

“He took them,” Luisa says simply.

“After you rejected him?”

Luisa stops scrubbing a dish and turns to look at Rose, her eyes wide. “After I what?”

“Wasn’t he here with flowers to court you?”

Prosciutto falls over from squealing with the pig equivalent of laughter. Luisa is hunched over the sink, her shoulders shaking. There’s no sound coming from her except a faint wheezing.

“Oh,” Luisa says when she gets herself under control, wiping away tears. “Oh god no. Raf’s like a brother. He reminds me a lot of my brother actually. But he would never try to court me. First and foremost maybe because I’m a raging homosexual.”

Rose is silent for so long while emotions explode inside her like popcorn that Luisa’s expression turns worried. “That’s...not a problem with you, is it? Because that’s how I lost my dad and my brother.”

Rose’s eyes widen. “You killed them because they were homophobic?”

“I’ve never killed  _ anyone _ ! Although I was tempted once or twice, I’m not gonna lie.” She catches Rose’s incredulous expression and backtracks. “But anyway, it’s a long story.”

And despite Rose’s promise to herself that she’d leave soon, she finds herself saying, “I’ve got nothing but time.”

Luisa gives her a small, cautious smile. “I’ll make us some tea.”

Luisa’s long story turns out to be pretty short. Her mom died when she was six so she grew up in Houston with her dad and her brother. Her dad ran an inn that was moderately successful. Her brother was learning the ropes on how to take over the family business. She wanted to be a doctor but the medical community was, and still is, under the impression that women were too hysterical to be physicians. Despite graduating as valedictorian, the medical school refused to give her her diploma.

Soon afterward, her dad tried to marry her off to one of his merchant friends so she’d “be taken care of.” But when he’d sprung her engagement as a surprise, she’d blurted out that she was gay and was already engaged to a woman named Allison.

They hadn’t taken the news well. There was a lot of arguing that night. Luisa went to bed furious and restless. And in the morning, she woke up to men manhandling her into a wagon marked Texas State Lunatic Asylum, where she was admitted for “female problems.” She was supposed to spend the rest of her life there, with her dad footing the bill but with the help of her roommate, Betty, she escaped and headed west.

“And that’s the gist of it,” she says before she takes a long sip of tea. “If the only family I had was going to lock me up for who I was, then they were no family of mine. Rafael’s the closest thing I have to a brother in the years I’ve been out here, but our relationship isn’t…” She frowns and rotates her mug back and forth. “I don’t know. Maybe that’s just the job of an older sister figure.”

“What do you mean?”

“It seems like he only ever comes to me when he needs advice for something. He’s in a bit of a pickle. He’s in love with two women: Petra, whose family breeds horses, and Jane, whose family runs the church in town. On top of that, Jane is engaged to Michael, the sheriff’s deputy.” She rolls her eyes. “The four of them are single-handedly running the town’s rumor mill. But anyway, Rafel was here because he wanted to know if I thought Petra would like wildflowers or if he should go for something a bit fancier. It’s a step up, at least. Last week, he was about to give her a potted cactus.”

“Oh.”

“So don’t you worry, he’s not gonna steal me away from you.” Luisa winks.

“That’s not...you’re completely missing the point,” Rose says, but she flushes anyway. Even though she feels heartened by this turn of events, it doesn’t change that she’s been here for too long and she needs to get going.

But it’s very nice, she thinks, as Luisa launches into another story about when she was working at a cafe and someone had hidden fireworks from the sheriff in the oven and forgotten about it. It’s nice to sit with a friendly face while their mugs of tea cool on the table between them and just listen. It doesn’t change that she’s putting Luisa in danger the longer she stays. Already the soles of her feet are itching to get moving again.

Tomorrow morning. Tomorrow she leaves.

As the evening wears on, Rose becomes acutely aware of a tightness in her chest. It feels like she’s recovering from a kick in the chest. It feels like all the air’s been let out of her lungs and breathing in aches. This would be a cause for concern, except that it only happens when she catches sight of Luisa in small moments, like when puts on the phonograph and hums along as she sweeps the porch or when she tucks a strand of her hair behind an ear as she mends Rose’s dress.

It grows and grows until it’s nearly unbearable, no matter how many times she tells herself that this attachment is probably because Luisa’s the first person who’s shown her any kindness in weeks and this crush is just a manifestation of that.

She very nearly tells Luisa she loves her when Luisa takes her pulse that night, but she tamps that down.

“It looks like you’re all better,” Luisa says, leaning forward on her chair. “You should be all ready to go by tomorrow, if you’d like.”

“Yes,” Rose says.

“Oh, that reminds me. Since you’re no longer dazed by venom, I suppose you can be trusted not to do anything stupid?” She holds out Rose’s bullets.

She can be trusted not to fire willy-nilly now that she has her gun, yes, but not do anything stupid at all? That’s to be determined, she thinks as she reloads her gun.

“Thank you,” she says quietly.

Luisa nods and rocks to her feet. She pauses before she blows out the lamp. “I hope you find what you’re looking for out there, Rose. Come back to visit whenever you’re settled. Shoots and I would love to see you again.”

Prosciutto snorts in agreement.

Rose just nods. “Good night.”

“Sweet dreams,” Luisa murmurs as she closes the door behind her.

Rose jerks awake in a cold sweat an indeterminate amount of time later. When she cranes her neck though, she can still see the moon through the window. Still night, then.

It was just a dream. A dream about robbing a bank and riding off into the sunset on horseback with Luisa, a few bills flying out of the bag of cash strapped to the saddle to mark their trail as she leans back to kiss her…

Rose stumbles out of bed sleep-drunk, in that daze where the image is so vivid in her mind, she’s not sure what’s real and what’s not. Everything is tinted with that dreamlike quality. She feels invincible, like anything’s possible. Her door swings open silently with the slightest of touches. She doesn’t know what she intends to do—she hasn’t thought ahead this far—but a rustling from the couch draws her attention.

From here, she can just make out the glint of Luisa’s hair. She floats toward her like a ghost, her feet soundless on the wood floor. Seeing her asleep, illuminated by faint moonlight like a naiad, draws Rose closer. She crouches next to her, tracing over her features hungrily with her eyes.

“Luisa…” she breathes, half to herself, half hoping that she’ll wake.

Luisa stirs, and seems completely unsurprised to see Rose next to her. “Is there something wrong?” she asks, her voice raspy with sleep.

And seeing her with her mussed hair and her dark, heavy-lidded eyes and slightly parted lips awakens a vicious longing in Rose. Still half-asleep herself, she wavers for a split second before she gives in. She falls forward and kisses her.

Luisa tastes soft and heavy, like sleep. She settles into the kiss as if this is something they do all the time. Rose still feels like she’s in a trance, acting on her every impulse without fearing the consequences. The only reason why her heart hasn’t burst out of her ribcage is because this doesn’t feel real.

Somehow, she finds herself straddling Luisa on the couch. She’s just about to lean down to kiss her again when Luisa’s thumb on her lip stops her.

“Rose?” She’s never heard Luisa’s voice sound so small before. It jolts her a little out of her daze. This isn’t the way her dream is supposed to go. “Is this real?”

“What do you mean?” She’s embarrassed by how breathless she sounds, but not enough to get off of her.

Luisa presses her thumb against her lower lip and drags it down, watching with rapt attention as it springs back into place. “Are you real?”

“I think so. Why?”

“Sometimes I wonder if maybe my family put me in the asylum because I actually am crazy, and not because I’m gay like I thought,” she says quietly.

“You seem completely sane to me.”

“You’ve only known me for a few days.”

Rose doesn’t know how long they stay like that, suspended in the moment.

Finally, Luisa frowns. “Where did this come from anyway?”

“Hmm?” Rose is only aware that she’d very much like to go back to kissing Luisa.

“Why did you kiss me?”

Her inflection is very careful. She doesn’t sound angry or disgusted, but hearing her say those words fully snaps Rose out of her stupor like she was doused with a bucket of ice water.

And instead of saying something that makes sense like “I’ve recently realized that I have feelings for you” or “I think I might be gay because you make me  _ very _ hot and bothered,” she says, “I don’t have any money.”

“I know?”

“Um…” Rose scrambles, trying to figure out a way to dig her way out of this mess she’s made. “I don’t know how to repay you for your kindness.”

Luisa sits up so fast they knock foreheads before Rose falls over backwards off the couch.

While they’re both wincing and rubbing their heads, Luisa says, “And you thought  _ kissing me _ was the solution?”

“I don’t have anything else to offer,” Rose says in a near whisper.

“Oh, hun,” she says, and the pity in her voice makes Rose want to set herself alight from shame. “You don’t owe me anything. You don’t owe anyone anything.” She leans over the edge of the couch and kisses her on the forehead, right where they collided. “Go back to sleep. We’ll talk about this in the morning.”

Rose gingerly gets off the floor and retreats back to the bedroom, feeling like a coward. She tosses and turns for a few more hours, but shame has sufficed her every pore now. It’s clear she’s not getting any more sleep tonight.

Not to mention having to face Luisa in the stark morning light makes her stomach curdle with dread. It’s just before dawn when she throws off the blanket and pulls on her mended dress and straps her gun to her thigh. She peeks out from behind her door, but Luisa is still fast asleep, snoring gently. Prosciutto is asleep too, splayed out on the rug. Every once in a while her legs will kick out. She’s dreaming pig dreams.

Rose attempts to write a goodbye note, but after a few tries, she hears Luisa turn over and scared she’s about to be caught sneaking out, scrawls a hasty “I’m sorry” that she leaves on the kitchen table before she takes off.

She closes the front door behind her and stands on the porch, staring off at the horizon. She wants to get as much distance between her and Luisa as possible but the thought of walking all the way to Los Angeles makes her feet hurt already.

In what passes as a pasture, Geraldine looks up and nickers at her. Rose bites her lip. On one hand, stealing from the woman who saved her life is a very, very bad idea. On the other hand, she’s ashamed and embarrassed and if she’s already proved herself to be a scoundrel, she might as well go big or go home.

She’s seen Luisa put on Geraldine’s saddle a few times now and she’s a fast enough learner that she can figure it out herself without too much trouble. She takes one look back at the house, with the first rays of dawn lighting up the sky behind it, before she spurs Geraldine into a trot.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to @roisacoloredglasses for shedding light on the mystical world of horses

They’ve been heading in a steady northwest direction (or so far as Rose can tell from the sun) for an hour or two. Geraldine’s even gait must lull her to sleep at some point because when she wakes up, the landscape looks oddly familiar.

Within ten minutes, she realizes that they’re heading back toward Luisa’s. 

“No no no!” Rose says, jerking on the reins, trying to get Geraldine to change direction.

Geraldine’s ears flatten against her head. Rose might not have grown up next to horses, but even she knows that’s bad news. She tries again, pulling gently on the reins to the right to get her to turn. Geraldine ignores her.

Over the next few minutes, she tries everything she can think of to get her to turn. At best, she gets Geraldine to chomp at the bit and once, throw her head back and snort. Normally this wouldn’t be a problem, except that Rose was totally unprepared for this and got reverse headbutted in the jaw.

So she’s rubbing what’s sure to be a nasty bruise and getting increasingly desperate when Luisa’s house comes into view. If she thought being rejected in the middle of the night was embarrassing, she doesn’t want to know what Luisa says when she shows up half a day later without a proper goodbye on the horse she technically kinda sorta stole from her.

“Come on, turn, dammit!” she snarls, yanking on the reins and giving Geraldine a kick.

Unfortunately, this spurs Geraldine into a full-blown gallop. Rose shrieks as she throws her arms around Geraldine’s neck and hangs on for dear life.

If Luisa hadn’t been aware that her horse was missing before, she’s definitely aware of it now as Geraldine barrels toward the farm with Rose screaming in tow.

By the time Geraldine slows to a stop, Luisa is leaning against the fence around her scrubby pasture, a long strand of grass hanging out of her mouth. “Howdy, stranger.”

Rose finally stops screaming when her legs give out and she tumbles off Geraldine.

“Hey, girl. Did you have a nice ride?” Luisa asks, stroking Geraldine’s nose. The horse nickers and noses at her pockets until Luisa gives in and produces a handful of oats. “Thanks for giving her a chance to stretch her legs. I know the trip into town isn’t enough for her some days.”

Rose covers her eyes and resists the urge to moan out loud. “I wasn’t...I mean, I was but…”

“Thank goodness you returned her and weren’t planning on stealing my Geraldine. Horse thievery is a serious crime, even among the outlaws and bandits out here in the west,” Luisa says over her.

Rose pushes herself up onto her elbows and glares at her. Luisa just raises her eyebrows innocently and whistles for Geraldine to follow her back into the barn. “Go on in. There’s rice and beans if you’re hungry,” she calls behind her.

Rose gets to her feet and brushes herself off, staring longingly at the horizon. Maybe if she started running now, Luisa wouldn’t be able to catch up to her. But she dismisses that thought almost immediately. She’d be beyond stupid to try to outrun someone who can actually ride.

It takes her a several long minutes before she takes a deep breath, steeling her resolve, and pushes open the front door. Prosciutto immediately shoots out of the house and starts running around her in the pig equivalent of donuts. She kneels on the porch and scratches under her chin. Prosciutto sits on her haunches and gives her a hard stare before she very gently nips Rose’s finger and starts to kick her back leg like a dog.

“She missed you, you know.” Luisa falls into one of the rocking chairs on the porch.

“I was hardly gone for six hours.”

“I read her your goodbye note. We were both furious.”

Rose swallows. “Sorry.”

“It didn’t mean anything the first time and it doesn’t mean anything now.”

Rose sags on the porch, splaying her legs out on the weather worn slats of lumber. “I don’t know what else to say. I wasn’t supposed to come back.”

“Why’d you leave then?” Her voice is soft.

She sighs and tips her head back against the railing. “I couldn’t stay here.”

“Oh.” A pause. “Was it something I did?”

_ Yes. No. Both. Neither. _ Rose doesn’t want to have this conversation, but it’s the lesser of two evils when she considers the other reason, which could very well cost Luisa her life. “No.” She takes a shuddering breath. “I was...afraid.”

She’s grateful Luisa doesn’t prod her for more.

It takes her a while before she can add, “I’m sorry. I panicked. I’m still panicking. It doesn’t excuse that I tried to steal your horse—”

“You took her for a ride,” Luisa says loudly.

Rose sighs. “Why do you insist on defending me?”

Luisa rocks back in the chair. “There aren’t many laws that are enforced out here, but horse theft is one of the most serious ones. They can put you to death for it.”

“And?”

“Jesus, Rose, what do you mean ‘and’? I just saved your life, I’m not going to hand you over so you can die.” Her gaze softens. “Besides, you’re lucky I’m fond of you.”

Instead of lightening the mood like she probably intends though, Rose stands suddenly. “See, this,” she says, breathing hard. “This is why I left.”

Luisa exchanges an incredulous look with Prosciutto as Rose pushes her way into the kitchen and lets the door slam behind her.

Rose shovels the rice and beans into her mouth, chewing mechanically, before she goes into her room. She’s barely stepped foot into it before she turns around and walks back out again. It’s not her room, it’s Luisa’s room and she was only staying here because she was being nursed back to health after a snakebite. She doesn’t belong here.

Luisa is still rocking idly when Rose storms out of the house again. She’s down the porch steps and nearing the property line when Luisa catches up to her. “Whoa, where are you going?”

“I’m leaving. Without stealing Geraldine this time—”

“ _ Borrowing _ her.”

“—your damn horse can’t be convinced to be stolen in the first place.”

“Why are you in such a hurry to leave? What is there for you out there?”

This does get Rose to stop. “Nothing! Which would be a damn sight nicer than being a burden here.”

“You’re not a burden.”

“Why do you want me to stay?” she asks, throwing her hands up. “I have a clean bill of health, don’t I? If you don’t want anything from me, I don’t see why I need to stick around.”

Luisa narrows her eyes. “Is this about the kiss?”

“Why would this have anything to do with the kiss?” Rose asks, bristling.

“So this _ is _ about the kiss.”

“You’re the one who brought it up!”

“Rose, look at me,” Luisa says, holding one of Rose’s hands gently between both of her own.

“No, I don’t want—”

“Rose, please.”

She closes her eyes and swallows hard before she turns to face Luisa. She knows whatever happens in these next few moments will change everything. Maybe if she keeps her eyes closed, just out of spite, she’ll never have to hear what Luisa has to say. She can stay suspended in this fog of uncertainty where Luisa could return her feelings. Maybe Luisa will let her go and she can go off and live in Los Angeles and wonder about the woman with the hazel eyes forever. But...she also knows the curiosity would haunt her for the rest of her life, and here the answer is right in front of her.

She opens her eyes.

“I’m going to explain a few things and I need you to hear me out before you jump to conclusions, interrupt me and/or take off again, okay?”

Rose snorts. “I don’t jump to conclusions.”

Luisa raises an eyebrow. There’s a long silence before she says, “Promise?”

Rose rolls her eyes. “Okay, fine.”

Luisa licks her lips before she says, “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather sit down for this? We can sit on the rocking chairs and I can make some lemonade…”

“Lu, I know I promised not to do anything rash but if you don’t spit it out, I’m going to walk straight out of here. I have enough embarrassment to last me a lifetime and some lemonade isn’t going to change that.”

“Right. Okay.” Luisa swings her hand back and forth a bit before she says, “I took the Hippocratic Oath when I graduated, or when I was supposed to graduate. And even though I’m not technically a doctor without my license, I took an oath to do no harm and I fully intend to abide by it even without a title. So when Rafael and his men brought you to me, the only thing on my mind was how to save your life.” She pauses to give her a hard stare. “Whether or not you could pay me.”

Rose can feel her ears burning. She tries to take her hand back but Luisa holds fast.

“I’m not gonna lie, when you first woke up, you were annoying: mouthing off, going through my things, doubting Prosciutto? I know you’ve learned your lesson with the last one at least but you were still a pain. But then—and I don’t know when and I don’t know how—something changed.”

Rose has stopped breathing, scared that she’ll miss a single word and misunderstand what Luisa is about to tell her.

“I got used to seeing you around the house and you know you’re not half-bad with the rope. Granted, I know that life on a farm isn’t all that glamorous and you’re probably used to better accommodations but if you wanted, I...um, what I’m trying to say is that I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to stick around for as long as you want to.”

There’s a silence as Rose tries to process this. “So you want me...to be your ranch hand?”

Luisa sighs and drops one of her hands to run it through her hair. “No, I’m not explaining this very well. Look, it’s isolated out here. I have Prosciutto and that’s enough most days, but even out here where we’re all criminals or related to criminals in one way or another, who I am makes people uneasy. It’s easier to stay out of the way and mostly have people seek me out if they need me. And I thought at first, maybe it was just me projecting my loneliness onto the first woman I’ve had more than a five minute conversation with once a week. But then you kissed me.”

Rose groans and tries to lay face down in the sand but Luisa won’t let her.

“Get up. You ran away before we could have this talk this morning but we sure as hell are having it right now. Where was I? Right, but then you kissed me and for a few wild moments, I thought I’d gotten everything I ever wanted without explicitly asking for it. You can’t imagine how offended I was when you told me you didn’t have any money.”

Rose opens her mouth to defend herself when Luisa says, “Shut up, I’m not done yet.” When Rose raises her hand impatiently, Luisa says, “I will take questions at the end.

“Anyway, I was heartbroken and trying to figure out what exactly had just happened. And then,  _ and then _ , you fucking asshole, you take off in the middle of the night with a measly ‘I’m sorry’ with Geraldine? Do you know how worried we were?”

“Why?” Rose asks mulishly. “It was pretty clear I left of my own free will and wasn’t kidnapped or anything.”

Luisa finally drops her hand to tug at her own hair. “I honestly don’t know why I put up with you. You are so aggravating!”

“So don’t!”

“Do I need to remind you that the last time you were left to your own devices, you literally gotten bitten by a snake?”

“That was a one time thing! Besides, I made it all the way from New York to here without your help and I sure as hell can get to Los Angeles without you.”

“What’s in Los Angeles?”

Rose shrugs. “A fresh start.”

Luisa looks at her with that same careful blank expression that she had when Rose had asked about her father and brother. “What are you running from?”

“Ghosts.”

When Rose doesn’t elaborate, Luisa sighs. “Come on, let’s go into town to pay One-Eyed Magda a visit.”

“What for?”

“If you’re so hellbent on heading northwest, you’re gonna need a horse, preferably not mine. Magda’s the only one around here that sells horses.”

“I don’t have any money.”

“So you keep reminding me,” she says with a wry twist of her lips. She starts down the path toward town.

“Are you planning on sweet talking her into giving you a horse?” Rose calls after her.

“Don’t be stupid. I’m going to buy one. For you.”

“You can’t do that!” Rose trots to catch up to her angry speedwalking.

“Watch me.”

This time, Rose is the one that reaches out to catch her wrist to stop her. “Luisa, I don’t need a horse.”

“Then I don’t understand why you’d take Geraldine in the middle of the night without even a goodbye!”

Rose tips her head back and sighs heavily. “I was trying to get away from you.”

“Okay, great,” Luisa says, yanking her hand back. “We’ve established that you find me repulsive. Let’s get you a horse and then you can be on your merry way and we can forget about each other and never see each other again.”

She’s marching away when Rose murmurs, “I don’t want to forget about you, though.”

“What?”

Rose approaches her with careful steps and jams her hands into the pockets of her frayed dress. “I said I don’t want to forget about you.”

Luisa looks at her out of the corner of an eye, wary even as a sliver of traitorous hope takes hold of her. “Why?”

“Because you’re magnificent. There aren’t many people, actual doctors or no, that would jump in to save someone they didn’t like from dying.”

“I like you, though,” Luisa says.

Rose waves that away. “If I can listen and not interrupt you, mostly, you can do the same for me. You’ve shared everything you had with a stranger these past few days. You’re brave enough to be true to yourself when everyone else tried to lock you up for it. You’re a patient teacher. You have an ass that just won’t quit, especially in those jeans. And you’re ridiculously honorable. If I was in your position last night, I wouldn’t have said no.” She chuckles. “Actually, I was banking on it. I was half-asleep when I kissed you—not that that’s an excuse—and it felt so nice that when you rejected me, I was so ashamed I kind of decided to take your horse and leave town.”

Luisa closes her eyes and twists her finger in the air. “Hold on, back up. _ I _ rejected  _ you _ ?”

“Yeah? What else do you call it?”

“Are you saying you have feelings for me?”

“Yes, which was why it was devastating when you pushed me away. Was this not clear?”

Luisa reaches up to cup Rose’s cheek. Rose hisses and jerks back. When Luisa pulls away though, her eyes stricken, Rose catches hold of her hand and brings it back to her face, positioning it to her other cheek. “Sorry. Geraldine hit me in the jaw on that side.”

“She’s very sweet-natured. Were you being an ass?”

“No!” Under Luisa’s incredulous gaze, Rose amends her statement. “Maybe. I was pulling on the reins but she wouldn’t turn. I was trying to leave town, not come back to you.”

Luisa smiles, one corner of her mouth slanting up higher than the other in a crooked grin that makes Rose’s breath snag in her lungs. “But you did.”

She shrugs a shoulder. “I guess. But only because of your dumb horse.”

Luisa grabs Rose’s other hand and lays it on the back of her jeans. “And not because my ass gives you gay feelings?”

Rose swallows. She can feel herself turning red. “Definitely not.”

“Rose, you stupid idiot.”

And then she kisses her.

“For future reference,” Luisa murmurs, brushing her nose against Rose’s, “maybe don’t insinuate you’re repaying my hospitality with sexual favors.”

Rose nods, unable to stop smiling. “Duly noted.”

It isn’t until they’re walking back to the house hand in hand that Luisa says, “I can’t believe you stole my horse instead of just telling me you had feelings for me.”

“I borrowed her!”

“You admitted to stealing her.”

“Yeah, well, you literally could’ve told me you had feelings for  _ me _ instead of drawing this out too, you know.”

“I never said I was the sharpest knife in the drawer.”

“You went to medical school!”

“That doesn’t mean anything. All the men I graduated with were idiots too. Not quite on your level, but close.”

“You’re the worst,” Rose grumbles.

Luisa grins and presses against her, leaning up to kiss her cheek. “I know.”

...

They settle into a routine in the next few weeks.

Luisa takes particular joy in rousing Rose at the asscrack of dawn. “Up and at ‘em, cowgirl. Those goats aren’t going to milk themselves, you know.”

Usually, Rose will flop over and drape herself over Luisa to prevent her from leaving the bed. “We just did that twelve hours ago, though.”

“And?”

Rose fake coughs. “I’m calling in sick. I’m still recovering from a traumatic snakebite.”

At this point, Luisa shoves her off. “Nice try. Just because you’ve finally had your gay awakening doesn’t mean you can laze about while I take care of everything. If you’re gonna stay, you’re gonna work.”

Rose buries her face in a pillow and moans in one long unbroken monotone. “You’re a tyrant.”

Luisa smacks Rose’s ass. “Come on, up. If you’re not in the kitchen in ten minutes, you’re not getting any kisses today.”

This does get her to at least raise her head. “This is shameless coercion under duress!”

Luisa winks, “We’re all criminals here, babe.”

Rose’s playful attitude evaporates, but Luisa doesn’t notice as she pulls on a robe and starts breakfast, humming the chorus to “Rattlesnake Mountain” off-key.

She knows she’s making a mistake. But for the first time in a long time, she’s happy enough that she can’t bear to leave. She’ll deal with it when it comes up, she decides as she finally drags herself out of bed.

Rose’s days are full of learning how exactly Luisa runs her farm. Luckily, she’s a quick learner and only has to see it done a few times before she can make an attempt on her own. Sometimes she fakes having no idea what to do just so Luisa will wrap her arms around her and show her how to do it properly.

“I know what you’re doing,” Luisa murmurs in her ear as she guides Rose’s hands in the right way to milk a snake again.

“Who, me?” She thinks she’s plays it pretty convincingly, at least.

“You could just ask, you know. I don’t mind.” Luisa presses a kiss to her shoulder. “Playing dumb isn’t a good look for you.”

Rose’s grasp on the snake loosens. He twists in her grip to face her, hissing fiercely. She barely has time to blink before Luisa’s snatched him away. “Bad boy, Westley! You don’t threaten friends!”

Rose wonders if snakes can look repentant or if she’s just projecting.

Their nights are reserved for domestic bliss. It turns out Rose has a knack for turning Luisa’s ingredients into something other than mashed potatoes, rice, and beans. Sometimes they’ll sit on the rocking chairs on the porch for hours and make up stories for their own constellations. Sometimes they’ll sway together with a clumsy sort of grace to the phonograph’s warbling.

Sometimes instead of passing out right away when they fall into bed, Luisa will teach her other things.

(Luisa sucks a kiss against her inner thigh. Rose is heaving above her, her knuckles white around the bed frame, her back arched. “Lu,” she hisses. “Harder. I need you. Inside.”

“Okay. Give me a second.”

“Now!”

“Rose, I have rattlesnake venom on my nails. I’m not going to put my fingers inside you without protection.”

She moans. “Sometime soon would be preferable!”

“Should’ve known you’d be demanding in bed,” Luisa murmurs, accompanied by the snap of a glove.)

Rose should’ve known better than to think it would last.

It’s early one morning. They’ve hardly stumbled into the kitchen when they hear a scream from outside. Luisa’s eyes cut to Rose. “Is your gun loaded?”

“No?”

“Do it now.”

“What was that?” Rose asks as she loads the gun with deft, efficient movements.

“That’s Prosciutto’s warning call. Someone’s coming.”

Sure enough, there’s some nervous mumbling from the gate. Luisa gives her one last worried look, a crease forming between her eyebrows before she flings the door open. Rose catches sight of a horse tied to the fence and a man on the ground, waving his hands trying to shoo Prosciutto away.

“Tom?”

“Call off your killer pig,” he says. From peeking through the kitchen window, Rose can see that Prosciutto has her front legs up on the fence and showing off her teeth.

“At ease,” Luisa says and although Prosciutto gets down from the fence, she doesn’t stop baring her teeth.

Luisa leans against her side of the gate. “You’re quite a ways from town, Tom. The station is back that way.”

“That’s Sheriff Tom to you, lady.”

Luisa shrugs. “What brings you out here anyway?”

“We’ve been getting mail from New York.”

Rose tenses, dread freezing her insides.

“Is it more advertisements for snake oil? Because let me tell you, I have enough of that stuff.”

“Why would I come all the way to you if it was for snake oil?”

“Do you want some? Just made a fresh batch. Only a quarter for a bottle.”

“Never mind the snake oil. The authorities are looking for a fugitive.”

Luisa raises her eyebrows. “Aren’t you wanted back east for racketeering?”

“I’m an upstanding citizen of this town!” he says, puffing out his chest.

Luisa gives him a dubious look. “If you say so.”

“They’re looking for someone in particular.” He pulls out a wanted poster. “A Clara Ruvelle? The town’s been talking. They say someone looking a lot like her has been seen recently. You know anything about it.”

Rose stops breathing. She already knows everyone recognizes her face. This is just a formality.

“Wanted for murder and arson? This lady? It’s gotta be a joke.”

Tom narrows his eyes. “You seem pretty defensive. Any chance you’ve seen her around?”

“I’m just saying, I don’t understand how someone with such a skinny neck would have the guts to kill anyone.”

If Rose wasn’t so scared, she’d be offended.

“You know the housewife type,” he drawls. “Secluded from society, no friends, spends all day inside and then one day she snaps. Picks up a revolver and shoots the husband point blank and then covers up the crime by setting the whole mansion on fire and running west.”

Rose swallows hard. He’s more right than not.

“Huh. Well, I haven’t seen her. Maybe she passed by here weeks ago. She could be in Los Angeles by now.” She hands his poster back. “Best of luck finding her.”

“It’s funny you say that,” Tom says, shoving the gate open so Luisa goes sprawling. She springs to her feet and tries swiping at his bare skin with her nails but he seizes her wrist and elbows her hard, barely slowing down as he strides toward the house. “Because several people in town have sworn that she was spotted in your company just the other day.”

“Shoots !” Luisa says, springing to her feet.

Prosciutto is already darting after him and sinks her teeth into his ankle. There’s a bit of a scuffle but she lets go and sinks down flat on her stomach after he gives her a savage kick.

“My baby!” Luisa cries, rushing over to cradling her head.

Rose falls back from the kitchen window. Out the back? He’ll hear her for sure. There’s no time to run or hide.

“What are you hiding, Rattlesnake Lu?” Tom pants as he limps up to the door.

“Don’t!” Luisa yells but he pushes open the door anyway…

To find Rose standing there with her gun aimed at his crotch.

“Hello, Tom, was it?”

“Sheriff Tom,” he says, raising his hands. “Easy there, Miss Ruvelle. That’s quite a weapon you’ve got there. I’d be happy to show you how to use it. All you have to do is hand it over.”

“Tom, I am very close to blowing off your genitals. I really don’t think this is the time to be antagonizing me.”

“Whoa now. We wouldn’t want any hasty accidents now, would we?”

“Oh no, it’ll very much be on purpose,” she says, cocking the gun just for emphasis. “Like you said, I have practice shooting sleazy men point blank. Hand over the poster. And don’t think you can draw that before I squeeze the trigger.” She nods to the revolver at his hip.

He unfurls the poster from his back pocket, his movements slow and exaggerated.

“Good,” she says, crumpling it in one fist. “Now you’re going to turn around and walk back to town and forget about all of this. Go.”

He limps down the steps, his hands still raised. When pauses when he gets to where Luisa is tending to Prosciutto, he pauses.

“Keep walking, cowboy,” Rose calls.

When he drops his hands and starts to turn back to her, she fires a warning shot so close to his face, it singes the brim of his ten gallon. He drops to his hands and knees.

“I said keep walking!”

He mounts his horse and doesn’t look back.

When he’s gone, Rose rushes toward Luisa and Prosciutto. “Is she okay?”

“She will be.” Prosciutto snuffles. It sounds painful. “But you have some explaining to do,” Luisa says, giving her a red-eyed stare.

When Prosciutto is comfortable in her nest of pillows and blankets on the rug, Rose and Luisa sit at the kitchen table with nothing but the wanted poster and a guttering candle between them.

“So you’re a murderer,” Luisa says finally.

“Yes.”

“And an arsonist.”

“To be fair, it was my house too. And he was already dead.”

“Jesus,” she says, rubbing her eyes. “Is that supposed to make me feel better? Rose isn’t even your real name. Should I call you Clara?”

“Please don’t. Clara, like Tom said, was a hopeless housewife. I feel more like Rose than I ever have Clara.”

“Well?” Luisa slumps in her chair. “What’s the story?”

She shrugs. “There’s not much to it. I grew up poor. I never knew my father and my mom spent long hours as a seamstress to make sure there was heat. I started hunting when the food ran out. He was a merchant, well off enough that my mother deemed it a good match. I spent years making myself into the perfect housewife. I ran a tight ship: his shoes were shined every morning, dinner was on the table by seven, the help and I worked together seamlessly to make sure that his every need at home was catered to. And then one day I found out he had a mistress. Knowing that everything I worked for meant nothing to him...I broke. I never felt so cold. I dismissed the butler and the maids. I loaded his gun and waited for him. He walked into the dining room and had the gall to demand where dinner was. I only felt a little bit of relief when I told him I knew about his mistress. He wasn’t sorry. He couldn’t even give me a good reason. She was available. She was convenient. She was in the right place at the right time. So I shot him.

She wets her lips. “And then the panic set in. I’d destroyed the only life I’d ever known. I suppose if I’d been thinking more clearly, I would’ve realized I had time to pack and gather my things since there were no witnesses. But I wasn’t so I doused the floors in lamp oil, left the house, and set it on fire. And well, you know the rest.”

“These are the ghosts you were running away from.” It’s not a question.

“Yes.”

Luisa scrubs at her face. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Are you…” She clears her throat. “Are you going to turn me in?”

Luisa snorts. “Do you know how hypocritical that would be? Everyone here has a criminal record.”

“They’re probably don’t have a $1,000 bounty either though.”

“That’s true, but we also wouldn’t have built up a town if we were only in it for the money. We’ll keep your secret. And whoever doesn’t will have to face my wrath.”

“Oh, that’s okay if that’s too much of a bother,” Rose says, staring down at her lap. She can feel her ribcage constricting. Her heart’s being squeezed in a vice grip. “I can leave tomorrow.”

“Do you want to?”

“Do you want me to?”

“No,” Luisa says softly. “If you’d like to stay, you’re welcome to. I won’t lie and say this doesn’t change anything, because it does. But I also wasn’t lying when I said I want you to be here, with me, if you’d like. I do wish you’d been honest with me upfront though.”

“Would you have let me stay if I’d told you right away that I killed my husband?”

“I would’ve had reservations, but from your point of view, it seems justified. I realize that I don’t have both sides of the story and never will considering the other party’s dead, but I can work with it if that’s your worst secret.” Her eyes widen in alarm. “Unless you’re hiding something even worse?”

“No,” Rose says, smiling tentatively. “That’s the worst by far.”

Luisa lays her hand palm up on the table and Rose, after a moment’s hesitation, places her hand in hers.

“I like you enough to do my best. And if it doesn’t work out, I can promise you that I’ll initiate a long, frank discussion about it instead of cheating on you with Petra.”

She knows they’re not out of the woods yet, but she feels confident enough to joke. “Should I be worried?”

“About Petra? Nah. She hasn’t had her gay awakening yet. The way she and Jane bicker makes me wonder though.”

There’s a pause.

“So what do we do now?” Rose asks.

“Let’s go to bed. There’s a lot that needs to be done tomorrow.”

“There’s a lot to be done everyday,” Rose says but she gets up and starts to set up the couch. Luisa stops in the doorway of the bedroom and Rose hopes she’ll tell her not to be ridiculous and to come to bed with her, but in the end, she doesn’t say anything. She swipes at the tears that well up in her eyes, knowing that she wouldn’t feel this miserable if she hadn’t been caught.

The next day is tense, if uneventful. They’re too careful around each other. That night, however, is when everything goes to shit.

As it turns out, a thousand dollars is a lot of money. Too much money for a small town sheriff to heed a murderer’s warning to blow off his dick.

Although Prosciutto is still bedridden, her ears perk up and she gives a low squeal. Luisa looks up and frowns. “He’s back.”

Rose is back at the kitchen window. “And he brought company.”

“How can you tell?” Luisa asks. It’s pitch-black outside.

“They’ve all got cigarettes. Five of them. Excellent.”

“That’s good?”

“I know how to scare them off for good and I’ve got just enough bullets left to pull it off.”

“What—”

“Do you trust me?”

Luisa gazes into Rose’s earnest eyes. “Yes.”

“Okay, this is what I need you to do.”

Luisa opens the door with a bang. “Hello, boys! Can I interest you in some lemonade?”

That’s the signal. The men startle where they’ve been crouching in her yard, heads turning automatically to see her silhouetted in the doorway in flickering candlelight.

“Gotcha,” Rose whispers, hidden a hundred yards away in the shadow of the stables.

_ Crack! _

“What was that?” one of them asks as a strong breeze ruffles his hair.

“A gunshot?”

“Were you hit?”

“Your cig…”

The lit end’s been blown clean off.

_ Crack! _

Another man jumps back, his cigarette falling out of his mouth. It’s been extinguished as well.

_ Crack, crack, crack! _

Five bullets later and they’re waving their guns around, trying to find out where she’s hidden.

“Over here!”

“No, she’s over here!”

“It has to be a ghost. No woman can shoot that well!”

Just for that comment alone, Rose wishes she had another bullet just so she could cripple that one in particular.

“Looks like she’s quite the markswoman,” Luisa calls from the house. “I’d leave her alone if I were you, especially when she’s feeling merciful.”

One of them breaks away from the others and mounts his horse. “I don’t know about you guys but I’m not sticking around for when she reloads.”

After that, they all peel away one by one until it’s just Tom left.

“That isn’t over,” he says, shaking a finger in Luisa’s direction. “I’ll get my hands on those thousand dollars come hell or high water.”

“Good luck!” Luisa waves as he slinks away, swallowed up by darkness.

Later, Luisa places a hand on the small of Rose’s back. “Thanks for not killing them even though I know you could’ve.”

Rose gives her a small smile.

It feels like the start of something promising, if not what they had before then something close to it.

…

In the coming months, the actual account of what happened at Luisa’s farm that night is grossly distorted. Outrageous rumors sweep through town and then onward to the next few towns.

Rose is content to ignore them and focus on farmwork, at least until there’s a knock on the door one day.

“Yes?” Luisa asks, pulling down her bandana.

“Is this where Deadshot Rose lives?” Three men from out of town are standing on the stoop, shaking with excitement.

“Dead— _ Deadshot  _ Rose?”

“Yeah, the one who shot five men’s cigarettes clean out of their mouths blindfolded.”

“Okay, that’s definitely not what happened.”

“Luisa? Who is it?” Rose comes up behind her to take a look at their visitors.

“It’s her! Deadshot Rose!” they say among themselves, elbowing each other.

“Deadshot Rose?” Rose blinks.

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”

“Would you be kind enough to give us a demonstration?” one of them asks.

Rose glances at Luisa, who shrugs and nods. “Okay, hang on a second.”

“Uh, is this what you had in mind?” she asks.

“Sure is!”

Rose had bought more bullets (off Rafael actually) in town and lined up empty glass bottles on Luisa’s fence. Luisa and the men stand behind her as she lines up her shot from the porch steps.

“Okay.” She sounds a little unsure of herself but her arm steadies as she raises the gun and cocks it.

_ Crack, crack, crack, crack, crack, crack! _

In two seconds, she’s shattered all six bottles.

The men clap and whistle and hoot.

“Marvelous, absolutely marvelous!” one of them says, pressing a dollar into her hand. “We’ll be telling all our friends to pay you a visit!”

They ride away before either Rose or Luisa can do more than exchange glances.

Still, she figures this was a freak incident and goes back to regular life until it happens again. And again. And again. By now all of California knows about Deadshot Rose.

Prosciutto, hale again, comes up with a new whistle to alert them when people looking for Deadshot Rose come calling.

Rose learns to add a flair of dramatics to enhance her performances. She learns how to throw knives, with Luisa usually as her lovely assistant. She can juggle bullets and guns and by the time she stops, all of them are loaded. She learns how to actually shoot blindfolded. That always elicits gasps and cheers.

“You could pretend not to enjoy the attention so much,” Luisa tells her one day, but it’s affectionate.

“And rob my adoring fans? This is what they want,” Rose murmurs, smiling and waving. “Besides, the extra money is nice. It makes me feel less useless.”

“You’re doing plenty already,” Luisa protests. “In fact, if this keeps up there won’t be enough time to take care of the farm.”

“Would that be so bad? You wouldn’t have to work as hard.”

Luisa doesn’t say anything.

“You’re always complaining about how the goats are assholes.”

“Well yeah, but they’re  _ my _ assholes.” She considers for a moment before she adds, “And you too.” She kisses Rose on the cheek.

...

Time passes.

One night, they’re leaning against the porch railing, stargazing in contemplative silence. Luisa takes a long draught of her lemonade and looks over at her.

“Rose?”

“Hmm?”

“How’s your back holding up?”

“Fine.”

Luisa chuckles. “No it’s not.”

“It is.” After so much time on the couch, she’s waking up every morning with back pain. She tries not to let it show and she’s never mentioned it, but apparently her poker face isn’t as good as she thought it was.

“C’mere.” Luisa takes her hand and leads her over. She sits in one of the rocking chairs and has Rose sit on the floor between her legs. Rose immediately sags with relief when Luisa starts working at the knots. While Rose’s head is bowed, her neck loose, Luisa says, “I was thinking…”

“Mmm?”

“I was wondering what my mom would say if she met you.”

“Good things, I hope.”

“Oh I’d tell her about how you never refill the shower with more water after you’re done and how you’re grumpy in the mornings and how you’re on the run from the law.”

Rose’s shoulders slump. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

“But I’d also tell her that you must be a witch because it’s not possible to do what you can do with a potato—”

“It’s the Irish in me.”

“—and that you have the steadiest hands I’ve ever seen and you try so hard to redeem yourself everyday.”

“Is this an employee evaluation? Are you letting me go?”

“Shut up. I’m trying to make a point here.”

“Which is?”

“I wonder what my mom would say if I told her I was in love with a murderer.”

Rose jerks. “Wait, what?”

Luisa tips Rose’s head back into her lap with a hand under her chin. “You heard me.” Rose notices that her eyes glimmer with starlight before she kisses her.

“Come to bed,” Luisa whispers against her mouth.

...

Tom tries to use Rose’s newfound fame to bring her to justice and claim the reward, but the town, enjoying the influx of business that tourists bring, refuse to give her up. In a couple months, Tom’s body is found drowned from a flash flood.

(“Should I even ask?” Luisa had asked when the news broke, but Rose knew she was joking. Luisa was well aware that Rose had been snoring very loudly next to her all night.

Still, it wouldn’t do to lose her reputation as a wanted murderer.

“You got me,” she said, holding out her wrists. “Better handcuff me and take me to jail.”

But Luisa had just smirked. “I think of a much better use for handcuffs,” she said casually before she put her hat back on and headed out. Rose had stared after her for a while, her mouth agape.)

...

Eventually, Luisa agrees to give up the goats. It’s less an actual farm and more of a hobby farm now. The tourists’ kids love Prosciutto and Geraldine, freed from having to cart Luisa’s wares into town for a liveable income, spends all day grazing to her heart’s content.

Outsiders are just as taken by Rattlesnake Lu. Nearly as many people pay to see Luisa at work as they do to see Rose shoot. Luisa’s sales of snake venom polish go through the roof.

Throughout the years, there are very many businessmen that try to get the two of them to go on tour or be the stars of their circuses, Rose always turns them down. “I go where she goes, and she wants to stay here. Why leave when we’re happy here?”

They grow old together, content with their life and their makeshift family. There’s no need to ride off into the sunset when they live this far west.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of your support! You guys don't wanna know how many hours of wild west music I had to listen to in order to finish this.


End file.
